


Father's Day

by JackRose



Series: Avalanche: Evolution [2]
Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Angst, Father's Day, Friendship, Gen, Mud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 19:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7450465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackRose/pseuds/JackRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Father's Day is rough for a lot of folks in Bayville.  But there's no reason they have to go it alone.  Technically part of Avalanche: Evolution, but more or less stands on its own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father's Day

Father’s Day-

The gas station was lit by a single flickering fluorescent light, it always smelled vaguely of bleach and sawdust, and the windows looked as though they’d last been washed sometime during the Eisenhower Administration. The one thing it had going for it, but this was a big one, is that none of the constantly rotating roster of bored teens behind the counter looked particularly closely at anyone’s ID.

Not that Lance was particularly worried about that anyways- the ID that declared him to be Dominic Petros, twenty-two year old resident of New York, was from SHIELD, and a damn sight better than the dodgy driver’s license he’d bought off Arcade. Still, old habits die hard, and the station was far enough from Bayville and the city that he wasn’t worried about being recognized.

Until, of course, the door opened and an all too familiar voice announced, “I need to fill up at pump three.”

“Summers,” groaned Lance under his breath.

“Alvers,” said Scott, coming up to the counter. “What are you doing here?”

“Alvers?” Asked the cashier, in the tone of someone who would really rather prefer not to be forced to notice that something was wrong.

Lance sighed and set another twenty on the counter. “We cool?”

The cashier tucked the money in her bra. “Works for me.” She went back to reading her magazine.

Lance picked up the cases of beer. “Great.” He bumped his shoulder against Scott’s on the way to the door. “I’m really not in the mood for this. Why don’t you just gas up and go have a barbecue and a ball game with your old man or whatever.”

He glanced back over his shoulder at Scott, and the other boy’s expression stopped him in his tracks. “Ah, hell,” Lance said, noting the grim set of Scott’s jaw. “You too, huh?” He pushed his hair back with his hand. “Listen, I didn’t.”

“Save it,” said Scott, throwing a couple of bills on the counter. “I’m not in the mood either.”

Out in the parking lot, Lance said, “Shit. Okay. If you want to drive around and brood all day I can respect that. But if you’re looking for company… you’re not the only one who has a rough time on Father’s Day.”

“Not exactly my idea of group therapy,” Scott said, turning his back on Lance. Lance shrugged and got in the jeep.

“Well… see you around, Summers.”

***

Back at the Brotherhood house, Lance, exiting his jeep with a case of beer, was greeted with cheers.

“Hail the conquering hero,” drawled Rogue.

“Hey,” he said. “Didn’t think you were coming.” He opened a beer, took a swig, and offered her another can.

“Hey, misery loves company.” She shook her head, declining the offer of the beer. “I wish. Logan’s back from the Rockies- and the last thing I need today is him lecturing me ‘cause he smells beer. Especially after that big blow-up he and Tabby just had.”

“Burgers are done!” Announced Freddy, from the grill.

There was a sudden breeze, and everyone abruptly found themselves holding a beer. Lance spotted Roberto, looking slightly startled, and then considering.

“Word is that Mr. Logan’s back at the mansion,” he said. Roberto sighed and tossed the beer into one of the tubs of ice. “You still up for the feats of strength?”

“Friend,” said Roberto, clapping him on the shoulder, “I was born ready.”

Lance grinned. “We’ll get to that later,” he promised. “First, burgers.”

“Damn, Freddy!” Tabby exclaimed around a mouthful of burger. “I think I figured out what your real mutation is. You are Super-Grill-Man.”

Lance laughed and patted Tabby on the back. “Don’t choke,” he advised her.

She swallowed. “Hey, Rocky. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah,” said Lance, snagging a burger and walking with her around the side of the house. “You need to blow off some steam about you and Badger?”

“Since when do I let steam build up?” Tabby shot back. They rounded the corner, to see Toad, judiciously sticking his foot into a mud puddle before turning the hose back on it.

“How you doing?” Lance asked him.

“Yo,” said Toad defensively. “Do I come bother you when you’re doing bills and ask if you need any help? No.”

“Bills are a pain in the ass,” Lance said. “I’d love some help.”

“ I do not,” Toad went on, ignoring him. “So don’t tell me how to make a mud puddle. I know from mud.”

Lance chuckled and shook his head, continuing on with Tabby to where a few folding chairs had been set up. “So what’s up?”

“I’m having second thoughts about the whole living with the X-geeks again thing. Way too many rules, you know? Thinking about getting an apartment of my own. I know you and Freddy were running that demolition gig for a hot second, and I was wondering…”

“Are you asking me for a job?” Lance asked. “Wait, am I the responsible one in our friendship? Damn that’s weird.”

“Don’t make a big thing out of it,” Tabby said, punching his shoulder. “Just because you’re getting old and settling down.”

Lance punched her shoulder in return. “Hey,” he said. “I am not settling down. And we ran into a nightmare of permits and red tape with the business. But listen- Mystique’s- your old room is still empty.”

“Well that’s... okay! Mind if I borrow your jeep tomorrow to move some of my stuff? Who am I kidding, we both know I’m going to do it anyways. Thanks, Rocky!” She kissed him on the cheek, and went to speak with Toad briefly, before leaving around the corner of the house, tossing a time-bomb into the mud as she went.

It sent a geyser of mud up, and Toad shook his head wearily as he wiped his face clean. “Yo, Lance, see what I’m talking about? No respect for the process.” He warily dipped a foot in the mud again. “Actually…. That’s about perfect. Mud’s ready everyone!” He hopped around the side of the house after Tabby.

Lance ineffectually tried to clean some of the mud off his shirt before following them. It wasn’t until he was rounding the corner that he realized that all the sound of merriment had died away.

It was pretty evident why. Everyone was staring at Scott, who, jaw tightly set, was obviously regretting coming there.

Lance stared at him for a moment. He had extended the invitation in a moment of guilt but, to be honest, had never expected Scott to take him up on it. Still, he was here now.

Picking up another can of beer, Lance made his way over to Scott.

“Nice spread you have here,” Scott said, obviously making an effort to be polite.

“First thing,” Lance said, pressing the beer into Scott’s hand. “Drink. Second thing, don’t be a dick. No one’s going to hold it against you if you let your hair down.”

Scott nodded slowly, and took the beer, and then glanced at Roberto.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” said Lance. “If it helps, just pretend you’re showing him how responsible adults can enjoy alcohol without getting out of control.”

Scott nodded and sipped from the beer.

“So…” said Lance awkwardly. “You want to talk about it?”

Scott smiled, thin lipped. “Do you?”

“No,” said Lance quickly.

“All right then. It’s about time for the Feats of Strength anyways. You’re going to want to see this. Let’s go, Freddy, ‘Berto!”

The party moved around the side of the house, where the mud puddle was, Roberto stripping off his shirt as he went, to an appreciative whoop from Tabitha. “Okay ladies and gentlemen!” Called out Toad, hopping excitedly to the top of the fence. “In the red corner, weighing in at about twenty bajillion pounds, Fred Dukes, the World’s Strongest Teenager- at least for another year- AKA the Blob representing team Absent Fathers!” Fred grinned and cracked his knuckles as he stepped into the edge of the mud puddle.

“And in the other red corner, cause I forgot to get another color flag, Roberto Da Costa, the Brazillian Bad Boy, AKA Sunspot, representing team Bad Dads!” Roberto took on his powered up form, black energy roiling over his body. “Rules are simple- first flat on his ass in the mud loses! When the match is over, see your friendly neighborhood Toad to resolve all bets. And… go!”

The two mutant teens circled each other, stepping warily through the mud. Then, abruptly, Fred lunged forward. Roberto ducked under his grasp, and grabbed him from behind, trying to push him off balance, but Fred had regained his footing, with remarkable agility for one his size, and turned around.

“Why don’t you make this easy on yourself and just fall over now, little guy?” Fred taunted.

“Funny,” said Roberto, rolling his neck to the side and appreciating the pop of joints realigning. “I was about to say the same thing to you.”

The two clashed together, each grabbing the others arms, and testing raw strength against strength.

“What do you think,” Lance asked. “Your boy have a shot.”

“More than that,” Scott said, “He’s got Dukes right where he wants them.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “‘Berto’s strong, but Fred’s got to have a couple hundred pounds on him. And look, he’s got the height to use it.”

Indeed, Fred wasn’t simply straining against Roberto now, but leaning into him, adding his prodigious bulk to his strength. Roberto was beginning to bend under the pressure.

“But hey, if you’ve got that much faith in him,” Lance added, “Why don’t we make this more interesting. When Fred wins, you’ve got to let Tabby mix you a drink. And I’m not talking about beer.”

“Deal,” said Scott. “And I’ll tell you why Roberto’s going to win. Dukes might have the size and the strength, but he doesn’t have the training. I’ll show you what I mean. If Roberto wins, you have to come to the mansion and run a danger room session. No powers.”

“You’re on, Summers.”

“Hey are you two side betting?” Pietro demanded, sticking his head between them. “You know the rules. House takes five percent for the burgers-and-beer fund.”

Lance rolled his eyes and dug out his wallet, sticking a twenty in Pietro’s hand. “That cover it?” He asked.

“For now. But I’ve got my eyes on you, Lance. Punk like you, always trying to buck the system.” Pietro zipped off again.

Fred had forced Roberto almost to his knees, and Lance smirked. “Hope you brought cab fare, Summers,” he said, “You’re sure as hell not going to want to drive after you drink one of Tabby’s concoctions.”

“Wait for it,” said Scott calmly. Suddenly Roberto seemed to fall backwards- but he never hit the ground. Instead, he stopped, horizontal in mid-air. Fred was thrown entirely off balance, and Roberto was able to roll out from under him as the enormous mutant flopped into the mud.

The ensuing tsunami of mud dwarfed that from Tabby’s modest time bomb, absolutely coating the watching, cheering crowd.

Sheepishly, as he tried to wipe the mud off his face, Lance said, “So, when should I show up for that Danger Room session?”

***

Much later in the evening, Tabby was riding around on Roberto’s shoulders, stick fencing with Toad, who was leaping from tree to fence to Fred’s shoulders to the side of the house. Tabby and Toad had both stripped to their skivvies, while Fred was still dripping mud. Rogue was emerging from the house with a towel around her head, having opted to remove the mud properly via a shower, and looking somewhat uncomfortable in Lance’s borrowed and ill-fitting clothing. Pietro had erected a volleyball net and, frustrated by the lack of a worthy opponent, was playing against himself at superspeed.

“Have you seen Lance?” Scott asked him, as he skidded across the ground, just barely failing to return a spike from himself.

“Upontheroof,” Pietro blurted at superspeed, before forcing himself to slow down. “Having a smoke, I think. Nowgetoutofmywaythisisgamepoint!”

Scott eyed the side of the building. He would have been more comfortable climbing the side of it if the building was in better shape, but as neglected as it might be, the house had good bones. In short order he was pulling himself over the side of the roof.

Lance, in his boxers, was indeed laying back, having a cigarette. He glanced over at Scott and nodded.

“Those things will kill you, you know,” Scott said, for lack of a better opener.

“Life we live, I should be so lucky,” Lance replied, sitting up and exhaling a cloud of smoke at him.

“I’m going to head out,” Scott said. “I wanted to say… thanks, I guess. In a weird, twisted Brotherhood way this was… not terrible.”

“Don’t hold back to spare my feelings,” Lance snarked, “Tell us what you really think.” He ground his cigarette butt out on the roof and dropped it into a mason jar cum ashtray. “Two things, Scott. One, you’re still a dick.”

Scott snorted.

“Two… next year we’re going to do this on Mother’s Day.”

Scott nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. And I’ll see you next week for that Danger Room session. Unless you’re planning on welching.”

“Screw you, Summers” said Lance, flipping him off.

“Later, Alvers.”


End file.
